


For the Man Who Has Everything

by lezlies



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Christmas Presents, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezlies/pseuds/lezlies
Summary: Caveat emptor! Yes, Mr. Spock, there is a Santa Clause.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	For the Man Who Has Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Out of Bounds, Overflow (1983)

The chain of events that led James Kirk to be kneeling amongst a pile of odd merchandise, sifting aimlessly through the junk, was unfortunately an all too familiar state of affairs for this time of the year. He picked up an antique computer module, examined it, and tossed it aside, wondering why anyone would put the picture of an apple on a computer.

This was all Spock's fault. If the Vulcan would only do like everyone else and pretend to like the stupid gifts, Kirk wouldn't feel so obligated to try quite so hard. No one seemed to make the perfect gift for a Vulcan.

Kirk held up an odd plastic device that was yellowed with age, unable to figure out what a 'RONCO' was. Frustration was growing along with the huge pile of discards. The clerk was looking less than pleased at the mess.

With a determined, not to mention desperate, expression, Kirk eyed the last storage bin in this, the last shop on the last planetfall before Christmas. All day he had been sorting and sifting, hoping to find an original gift for his best friend. He paused to consider his strategy. Not that it had ever worked all that well before. Last year, having given up on everything else, he had tried for humor, thinking of all the quiet, private jokes they had shared over the years. But somehow Spock hadn't seen the point in Dale Carnegie's How To-Win Friends and Influence People and 1001 Sure-Fire Jokes. And Kirk had even went to the trouble of deleting all references to Vulcan mating habits.

The year before that had been even less successful. He had picked out an incredibly dull looking book in Vulcan, only to discover that it was instructions for children who wished to train their sehlats not to dirty the rugs. Still, what could you expect when you bought a rare Vulcan book from an Orion trader on Wrigley's?

Kirk sighed in exasperation. He briefly considered stuffing credits in an envelope, but decided that, although far more logical, it still might be considered a bit tacky.

Suddenly, a perverse idea began to snake its way through Kirk's weary brain. Why use a strategy at all? Why use logic? It had certainly failed him with remarkable consistency. Why not use reverse logic, strangely simple yet complex. The odds against him picking out something appropriate couldn't be any worse than depending on random chance. Besides, then he could return to the ship and get his boots off; shopping made his feet hurt.

"Excuse me," Kirk said to the clerk, "do you have anything Vulcan?"

"Do you have anything in particular in mind, sir?"

"No, just hand me something Vulcan," Kirk said cheerfully, relieved to feel decisive once again. "Anything even remotely Vulcan will do," he added.

"Well, we do have something... but its quite expensive. Very old and--"

"That's great. The cost is no object." His smile was blinding in the joy that the ordeal was nearly over. It faded a bit when a dusty object was handed to him. He looked at it, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He shrugged. There was a whole month for him to figure out what it was. Until then...

"Wrap it up."

It was the week before Christmas and Kirk sat staring morosely at Spock's gift. To say that he regretted his impulsive purchase would be putting it mildly. He glanced at the other semi-neatly wrapped gifts and wished that Spock's--his dearest, closest friend--could have been a little more meaningful. Actually, he just wished he knew what the hell it was.

He had tried looking it up in a book on Vulcan custom and tradition that Spock had once given him, but it contained no illustrations, and he had no idea of what the... thing... was called. The book was impossible in any case. He had attempted with great determination to read it once, but it had quickly become apparent why so few humans had managed to penetrate the cloak of secrecy that surrounded Vulcans. They had to be the most boring group of intelligent beings ever created, transplanted, or manufactured. Kirk had found himself reading the book as he had some of his more heavy textbooks; the first and last paragraphs of each chapter had been all he could stand. For an entire month afterward he hadn't needed any of McCoy's little red sleeping pills--even now, all he had to do was think of the book and he became drowsy.

No matter how he avoided it, his eyes were drawn back to his gift for Spock. At least it had to be authentically Vulcan--nothing else could look so incredibly boring. It was a dull brown, smooth on the outside, ridged on the inside, about eight inches deep and three inches in diameter at the mouth. It looked like a vase. Except that it didn't seem to want to stand up by itself. Kirk began planning clever responses to cover the fact that he had no idea what it could be. He comforted himself with the fact that Spock would surely know.

When Christmas arrived and the partying was done, Kirk's gifts for various crewmembers had been whittled down to one lone offering. It had been a good day, and he had duly visited all the departmental parties with great enjoyment. As usual, the Sickbay party had been the most bizarre--there was something about people in the medical profession that brought out strange behavior.... McCoy had accepted his usual gift with the appropriate gratitude. Each year the ubiquitous bottle became more exotic and certainly more potent. Kirk sometimes worried that McCoy's liver would go on strike rather than be subjected to the rigors of the Christmas season.

But right now, Kirk knew he was procrastinating. He hadn't really expected to see Spock at any of the celebrations, and he had been right. Spock had maintained his dignified distance. Resolutely, Kirk swept the bundle off his desk and strode to the Vulcan's quarters. Spock had hated every gift he had ever got him, so why should this be any different? It was, after all, the thought that counted.

His momentary bravado faded as the door buzzer was answered. "Come."

Spock was seated at his desk, studying a report.

"Hey, it's Christmas," Kirk reminded him with a forced cheeriness. He tried not to notice the pained expression that crossed Spock's features.

"Yes, sir. It will be approximately another week before the effects of your holiday have dissipated sufficiently for the normal operations of this ship to resume."

They had had this conversation before, but Kirk tried again. "Come on, Spock, lighten up. This has been an official Starfleet holiday for twenty five years. You ought to be used to it by now."

"Nevertheless, I see little point in the raucous festivities."

Kirk shrugged and smiled shyly. "It makes us humans feel good. And it's nice to give gifts to people we really like." He set the present on Spock's desk.

Spock was immediately uncomfortable, but relented at Kirk's hopeful smile. "Would you like a drink, Jim?"

"Sure," Kirk said, brightening.

They spent the next hour or so just talking companionably, Christmas forgotten, and both relaxed. Kirk finally yawned and decided it was time to go. He wasn't disappointed that Spock hadn't opened the gift in front of him--that had become a tradition between them. This was one year that Kirk was very fond of that tradition. With an affectionate smile, Kirk wished Spock a happy holiday and left.

This left Spock alone with the present. Warily, he eyed it, wondering what it could possibly be this year. He did not have high hopes. Spock agreed totally with his father on this one point; holidays were difficult periods to cope with when in the company of humans. Even Amanda, after forty-five years on Vulcan, still insisted on buying presents and decorating the house with odd bits of flora and silver tinsel. However, like his father, when faced with the inevitable, Spock had learned to live with it.

Kirk's gifts had come to be one of the trials of Spock's existence. They became stranger with each year, and if one was to follow the remainder of the custom, he would have to acknowledge it. Therefore, he would have to open it.

The brightly colored paper fell away easily. There was a long moment during which Spock totally stopped breathing. His mouth fell open in an undignified gape. It was impossible. Impossible! But the visual evidence sat before him... tilting slightly to one side.

Kirk had given Spock his C'lemnin!

Spock's mind retreated from the shock of such an action. Perhaps Kirk did not know the significance of the gift? But that was also impossible, because it was included in the book on Vulcan customs Spock had given him; a book Kirk had said he found extremely enlightening.

Just to make sure, he hastily retrieved a copy from his own shelf to verify the inclusion of this particular bit of Vulcan tradition. Yes, there it was. A footnote in chapter twenty-seven on courtship mores. The entire ritual was outlined in detail.

No, a man as obviously intelligent as Kirk would have been certain of the meaning of such an offer. The shyness and sweet smile was also a clear indication. The entire idea was suddenly very intriguing. While he had never actually considered Kirk as a sexual partner before--it would have been illogical even to even wonder about it--now that he was faced with the possibility it was far from unappealing. They were extremely compatible, enjoyed each other's company, and were good chess partners. What else could one desire in a Sha'lic'lin? In addition to all this, the prospect of his next pon farr definitely a deciding factor.

Spock was also inordinately pleased that Kirk had gone to all the trouble of studying and proceeding with the Vulcan ritual in deference to Spock's custom. This obviously indicated that he preferred to take a subordinate role in any sexual relationship between them. It seemed uncharacteristic where Kirk was concerned, but Spock had always found human sexuality unfathomable. And Spock, being a superior Vulcan male, naturally had no aversion whatsoever to being dominant. All things considered, Kirk had been surprisingly logical to take into consideration Spock's greater physical strength and stamina and to bow to the inevitable.

Since Kirk was taking such careful pains with the ritual, Spock could do no less than to follow in kind. The first step had been Kirk's, the rest was now plainly up to him.

Reverently Spock went to his closet and pulled out his own C'lemnin. It was slightly embarrassing for Spock to still have need of it when all of his peers had long since abandoned theirs, but Spock was a practical man above all else. He looked at it fondly for a moment, then regretfully smashed it and collected the pieces to give to Kirk as custom required. This would signify Spock's acceptance and alert him to the coming events.

At this point, Spock sat down to work out some of the more difficult details regarding tradition. In this particular case, following the precise pattern of the ritual presented some problems. Spock was confident they could be overcome. After all, if Kirk had managed to find an authentic, extremely rare C'lemnin, the least he could do was to find the proper substitutions for the remainder of the ritual.

Who was Kirk's clan leader? His nephew, Peter, wasn't old enough, and Spock was unaware of any other male relatives. Since this was only a technicality, Spock decided that any older male figure who exerted some authority over Kirk would suffice. It didn't take long for McCoy's name to pop into mind. He was something of a father-figure to Kirk in any case. He was a perfect choice.

The next morning Spock felt ill at ease as he waited for McCoy in Sickbay. All of this covert activity was unnerving to the usually straightforward Vulcan. Still, it would all be worth it when Kirk was finally his. Kirk believed in traditions more strongly than Spock had ever been aware of before; he was adhering to them to the letter. Not even the slightest hint of what was transpiring could be read in Kirk's manner. The confusion with which he had accepted Spock's broken C'lemnin had perhaps been slightly overplayed, but that was part of his charm.

Dr. McCoy arrived, surprised to see Spock waiting for him. "You want to talk to me, Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor." He waited until McCoy noticed the cloth-draped object on his desk.

"What's this? Christmas was yesterday," McCoy commented, mystified. The only thing Spock had ever given him was an occasional insult.

"It is for you," Spock said, betraying nothing, uncertain of how much, if anything, Jim had revealed to the Doctor. "If it is acceptable, of course," he added.

McCoy moved the cloth aside and was stunned to see one of the Vulcan weapons that usually hung on Spock's wall. His memory dimly labeled it an ahnwoon. It was a family heirloom, and probably priceless. "Spock! I... I can't accept this!"

Unaccustomed panic gripped the Vulcan "It is not enough?"

"No, no... It's too much, really! I mean..."

Spock felt slightly offended. Surely Jim was worth at least this! "I find it little enough to give, considering the circumstances," he said huffily.

McCoy felt he was missing something important. "But why?"

"That is not spoken of," Spock said in surprise at McCoy's lack of tact.

"Oh. But what will your father say? Won't he be upset when you go home without it?"

"He will be more concerned with what I do bring home," Spock said worriedly before catching himself. -

"Huh?"

Spock straightened in his chair. "Will you accept this weapon as an alternate means of protection?"

Still totally confused, but unable to refuse when Spock looked so strangely hopeful, McCoy nodded dumbly.

Spock stood. "I am pleased we were able to transact this matter to both our satisfactions. Live long and prosper." With a Vulcan salute, he left.

Only thirty seconds elapsed before McCoy was on the intercom asking Kirk to join him in Sickbay. Kirk entered a few moments later and stopped short at the sight of the ahnwoon. He remembered it well.

"Oh, Bones. You didn't raid Spock's cabin, did you?" he asked worriedly. "That must have been some scavenger hunt you organized." He remembered the six pairs of briefs that had disappeared from his quarters.

"Of course I didn't!" McCoy snapped. "I left Spock off the list."

"So where and how did you get this?"

"He gave it to me just a few minutes ago. At least, I think he gave it to me." He paused thoughtfully. "It kinda sounded like we were trading... but I have no idea what I was supposed to have given away by accepting." He briefly recounted the conversation.

"Well, do you know what he gave me?" Kirk asked, totally ignoring McCoy's strange account. "He smashed up the thing I gave him and gave it back! You get a valuable family antique, and I get a broken... thing!"

"He did that? You're sure?" McCoy was totally amazed.

"Yes, he gave it to me this morning. Not only that, but he acted like I should be pleased about it or something." Kirk shook his head and lapsed into a morose silence.

"Well, maybe..." McCoy trailed off helplessly. There seemed to be no logical explanation for any of it. And this was weird even for Spock.

Finally Kirk rose. "I'm just going to give up on trying to get Spock to appreciate Christmas." A defeated man, he walked out of the office, leaving McCoy with an ahnwoon and a headache.

Spock looked over the Enterprise route one more time, trying to see a spot in their schedule that might provide enough leave time for the completion of the ritual. As it stood now it would be at least two months until Kirk would be off the ship for more than two days at a time. For the first time in his life, Spock understood the human concept of time 'dragging by' and the frustration of waiting.

He wished he still had his C'lemnin. The tension was mounting with each passing day, becoming unbearable. While Spock had first considered Kirk's offer in a somewhat pragmatic light, now all he could think of was the more romantic--not to mention physical--angle. Every he looked at his Captain he noticed more to admire. Eidetic memory furnished him with thousands of images of Kirk, and he applied his new-found appreciation to each one.

The face that had just happened to be attached to his Captain now took on new dimensions. He imagined stroking down the perfect cheek, touching his lips to the soft fullness that Kirk's mouth would certainly be. Kirk's long, elegant neck would be a gliding path to trail kisses down. Then he would caress Kirk's chest, tease the nipples...

Spock became abruptly aware of the erection straining inside his pants. With no C'lemnin and no desire to develop hair on his palms, he resignedly began to compute equations.

One month later Spock was beyond equations. Now he was figuring the odds of being able to restrain himself from grabbing Kirk, throwing him to the deck and ravishing him. Gentle musings about kisses and necks had given way to torrid thoughts of cocks and asses--specifically his cock in Kirk's ass. He spent an inordinate amount of time in the gym, desperately trying to expel his excess energy. He was beginning to look like a painting by the famous Pre-Reform artist, T'Feyrer.

He used to worry that he wouldn't be able to pull off a kidnapping. Now he knew he could do it. The sooner he had Kirk the sooner they could both revert to a little more exciting version of normalcy. Kirk, however, seemed to be handling the delay splendidly. Sometimes he seemed a little nervous and would look at Spock strangely, but that was understandable. Kirk was not a patient man by nature. Still, his ability to control was most impressive.

One more week, Spock reminded himself, as he set the weight machine to maximum and began his four hundredth set of exercises.

"Maybe this shore-leave will be just what Spock needs," Kirk said worriedly.

Bored by the umpteenth mention of Spock in the last week, McCoy merely nodded. "All he needs is to get laid," McCoy said grumpily. "If he were human, you'd recognize it immediately. The tenseness, the workouts... For god's sake, Jim, he's practically beating off--"

"You are really a bastard sometimes," Kirk snapped, shocked by McCoy's irreverence. He was talking about a Vulcan, after all. "He's not human; we should at least acknowledge that."

"Well, excuse me," McCoy replied testily. After a brief silence he continued, "I was just kidding, for Pete’s sake. You need some shore-leave, too, before you kill someone. You're almost as tense as Spock. Come to think of it, you need to get..."

It was always easy to determine how horny McCoy was by his interest in everyone else's condition.

Kirk tuned out the droning voice. By the time McCoy had finished his list, they would be in port and halfway through the leave. Sometimes Kirk wondered if McCoy's title should be changed to Chief Medical Officer and Pimp.

Still, maybe McCoy had a point about Spock. He was acting suspiciously similar to that time he was going into pan farr. But the timing now wasn't right, so that couldn't be it. The whole idea was too ridiculous to consider, and he dismissed it, leaving the Doctor wondering aloud how often Ensign Perez got laid and with whom.

Dejectedly, Kirk looked around the drab urban cluster of Prefab buildings filled with prefab men, women, and various other accoutrement and combinations, all willing to make the lonely spaceman or woman a little less tense for a lot more money. Just the quick tour through the area had already convinced Kirk to head back to his hotel and look for something without a price tag, or one that wasn't so conspicuous.

Spock had beamed down immediately upon arrival, practically shoving to the head of the line. After viewing the area, Kirk was mystified as to why. The rest of the crew had dispersed over the planet, and Kirk was frankly looking forward to being free of everyone and everything for the next week.

Kirk's eyebrows rose at the sight of two Vulcans walking toward him, or more specifically, toward the red-light district. As they drew closer, ·Kirk noted the rich, ceremonial robes and wondered if there was some sort of convention going on. He made a mental note to avoid that hotel. When they stopped in front of him, he was prepared to give directions to the museum that had the exhibit on "Peat Moss Through the Ages".

"Captain Kirk, would you accompany us, please?"

Kirk started at the sound of his name. In the clothes he was wearing, he was sure no one would have recognized him. "Who are you, and why should I go anywhere with you?"

The Vulcans looked at each other, then seemed to silently agree on a course of action. "We are here to kidnap you," one of them said in a strangely reasonable tone of voice. "If you will please--"

Kirk swung an elbow, catching one in the ribs as he attempted to squirm away. These couldn't be Vulcans. They were Romulans!

With an expression of boredom, the Vulcan/Romulan who wasn't holding his side quickly nerve-pinched Kirk. Efficiently, a cab cruised up from behind and they loaded their unconscious quarry into it and sped off.

Spock answered the door immediately when the precise knock sounded. He indicated where the Vulcans should deposit their bound bundle.

"I, your clan brother, express my gratitude for your aid in uniting my chosen with me. As it was in--"

"Spock, you do not need to recite the entire speech. As your cousins it was our duty to aid you. Although your choice of mate and style of courtship are both, shall we say, a bit strange--not to mention old fashioned." Shore and Snore were both from a more relaxed side of the family and had trouble understanding the more Orthodox Vulcans. Eager to be on their way, they suffered through a ritual farewell before heading back to the red-light district.

Estimating that it would be another two hours before Kirk regained consciousness, Spock decided to purchase a few items that might be required. Some basic research had revealed a surprising number of customs that humans obviously associated with the sexual act. Unsure of how many or which of these Kirk preferred, he decided to look for everything.

Kirk awoke at the scheduled time, but he was alone. Immediately, he was aware of the ropes that effectively tied his hands and feet. Any minute the Romulans would be back, and Kirk expected to be interrogated, perhaps tortured, before being sent off-planet to a Romulan ship which was no doubt waiting right outside of sensor range. If two Romulans could impersonate Vulcans, he wondered how many other Romulans were operating under the cloak of Vulcan facelessness.

Kirk froze as he heard the door opening. Bracing himself, he waited for the confrontation. Maybe he could--

"Spock!" Kirk sagged in relief when he saw the package-laden Vulcan. "Get me out of here. They'll be back any minute. How did you find me?" The Vulcan hadn't said a word, but was moving toward him. "Hurry up, Spock. I can't--" A look of shock froze Kirk's features when a wide strip of tape was affixed over his mouth.

"I apologize, Jim" Spock said worriedly. "You are following tradition perfectly, and I am failing you. I should have gagged you immediately. I did not intend to impugn your honor."

It was a good thing Kirk had the gag in place, because for once in his life--well, maybe twice--he had nothing intelligible to say. What the hell was going on?

Spock continued to speak. "I realize that you are here against your will and intend to honorably defend yourself." To Kirk's immense surprise, Spock gave a conspiratorial wink. "I shall endeavor to complete preparations quickly."

From his vantage point on the bed, Kirk watched the Vulcan hurry around the room. His eyes widened when he saw the Vulcan vase being pulled from a cloth sack. Spock was holding it reverently.

"Jim, I am most delighted with your gift. Where did you ever managed to discover a C'lemnin?"

//Klem-nen?!//

"They never leave the family, passed down from generation to generation. But it is fortunate that you did obtain one. You have followed the traditions to perfection. I am pleased." Spock rested the C'lemnin on the table beside the bed and sat beside Kirk, stroking the smooth face. "It is good to finally be able to talk of this. These last months have been difficult. But, it is all over now. Your clan leader has been appeased and you have been stolen away. Now all that remains is our joining."

For some reason Kirk knew Spock wasn't talking about joining a lodge. All this was weird enough for an initiation, but he doubted if Vulcans would get so picky about details. The ritually weird things he had seen so far had been during pon farr. Leave it to Vulcans to make sex so--

//Sex!!! What the fuck... wait, bad choice of words, Kirk, // he chided himself nervously. //What is Spock planning to do?//

Warm hands cupped the sides of Kirk's face. "You are so beautiful."

Lips brushed his forehead, the hands massaging gently. It took Kirk a minute to start to struggle against the pleasant sensations.

"So honorable," Spock murmured admiringly. "Do not worry. It shall never be said that you dishonored your clan by surrendering too quickly."

The hands were unfastening Kirk's shirt, heedless of his attempts at escape. Spock was lying beside him now, mouth and hands busily caressing the urge to resist right out. Something else wanted out, too, and this time Kirk found himself squirming to expedite the Vulcan's efforts to remove his pants. A muffled moan greeted Spock's first caress of the erect organ.

Spock jumped as if stung. In a moment he was off the bed, his eyes wide and his face flushed. "I apologize," Spock said. "I did not mean to be so selfish. It is difficult for me to control... But I have read about the human need for extensive foreplay--" He was interrupted by a frantic, if unintelligible denial. "No, Jim. You have borne enough of the burden. Now is the time for me to honor your customs. Allow me to demonstrate what I have learned."

Kirk rolled over sideways, miserably aware of his aroused state, but unable to do anything about it. This was crazy. Here he was, bound and gagged, not to mention unmercifully teased, kidnapped, and still wanting his First Officer to finish the job he had started.

"I ascertained from the clerk where I could obtain some accoutrement for foreplay and he supplied me with an address. It was in a rather questionable area of the city--a little shop called 'Marie's of San Francisco'. She was most helpful." Spock opened the first large package. "I am not usually swayed by salespeople, but she seemed to be exceptionally knowledgeable."

Kirk was almost afraid to look. He wasn't aware that there were enough different devices on Wrigleys to fill all those packages Spock was referring to.

"She indicated that this was essential," Spock stated informationally as he pulled a pair of leather gloves from a package. "I was not aware that humans were so germ conscious during the sexual act." He rummaged around and brought forth another offering. "These seem more painful that decorative," Spock said, holding up two nipple clamps. His recitation was interrupted by very definite sounds of disapproval from Kirk.

Trying to relay a message with his eyes, Kirk concentrated on sending a come hither look in order to stop Spock's journey through the realm of fetishes. Impatiently, he bounced his still-bound feet on the bed.

Spock got the message. He put down the anal vibrator and approached the bed. "You wish to continue without the use of the foreplay equipment?" Spock asked hopefully.

Kirk paused uncertainly. Spock sure picked a hell of a time to start asking imprecise questions. Pondering his response, Kirk realized it was a no-win situation. Indicating no would probably end up with him looking like the cover boy for "Spaceman in Bondage" and a yes gesture would still find him in an untenable position.

Kirk stared at Spock, making sure not to move lest he inadvertently use some secret Vulcan signal that he was unaware of. Spock looked so hopeful, so relaxed and happy. What was wrong with Spock as a bedmate, after all? Just because he normally went for women, didn't preclude a relationship with Spock. He did love him dearly. And Spock was kind of cute... in a skinny kind of way. Besides, it was pretty sexy lying here on the bed, tied up, gagged, with a Vulcan brandishing various and sundry kinky objects in front of him. Hesitantly, he nodded a yes to the Vulcan. Immediately, his feet were untied and a very eager Vulcan body settled on top of him.

For Kirk, the after-sex glow was cut short by the discomfort of his still bound arms, the tangle of loose, sweaty clothes still clinging to parts of his body, and the hot weight of a Vulcan draped heavily on his back.

"Mmmmmmmm," Kirk mumbled through the gag, trying to catch Spock's attention.

"Mmmm, yes," Spock murmured drowsily, gently kissing Kirk's neck. "Mmmmmmmmm!" Kirk jerked meaningfully.

"Oh. Yes, I apologize," Spock said hurriedly, rolling off his Captain and untangling him from the clothing and the gag.

Before Kirk had the change to·say anything, his lips were captt1red in a firm kiss.

"I have wanted to do that since walking into the room," Spock said contentedly.

Kirk allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace. At this point, Kirk expected some sort of explanation, but none seemed forthcoming. He looked at Spock's face, seeing the contentment and happiness that glowed there. The questions died on Kirk's lips. He had the feeling he would be spoiling something very special if he admitted his ignorance. Besides, Spock obviously assumed he knew how and why this had all come about.

Kirk relaxed into the embrace with a mental shrug. But his curiosity wouldn't let it drop. His eyes fell on a lone object sitting crookedly on the nightstand. Instinctively, Kirk knew that that damned Christmas present was somehow behind all of this strangeness. Cautiously he addressed the Vulcan, "I'm glad you liked your present well enough to bring it along."

"Where else would I have your C'lemnin during our Rut'kin?" He nuzzled Kirk's lips hungrily. "I shall treasure it' always, for it has granted me the best, most practical, and most enjoyable gift possible." He allowed his hands to become more intimate.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Kirk said, not seeing at all. Very carefully, he began to review his conversations with Spock since Christmas. The encounter with McCoy immediately came to mind. With an intuitive flash, he made the connection--which was difficult considered where Spock's hands were playing on his anatomy. //A trade!// He thought with a suppress d giggle. //Bones traded me off!//

"I hope I was worth the ahnwoon," Kirk said conversationally, testing out his theory.

"Monetarily you are a poor substitute... but you have other qualities that are incalculable."

So he had guessed right. But that still didn't quite explain why Spock had him kidnapped. The rest of the reviewed conversations seemed innocuous. Certainly, Kirk could not recall asking Spock to engage in a homosexual bondage scenario. Not that it was all that bad…

Kirk was rolled over onto his back, arms pinned above his head. "Hey," Kirk protested, "isn't it my turn?"

Spock looked down at him in surprise. "You gave me your C'lemnin. I destroyed mine according to custom. Therefore it is obvious you have offered to be my outlet for sexual tension, not for me to--"

Kirk shook an arm free. He had been willing, even eager, to go along with all this weird tradition, but there were limits. While he had more than enjoyed the last bout with the Vulcan, and would no doubt enjoy the same in the future, he had definite plans of his own. He glanced at the ugly object on the table, wondering what the hell it had to do with who was on top. Spock had made it sound as if not having one meant you got to be the one doing the fucking, and as if having one meant you didn't need to. A nasty suspicion crept into Kirk's mind... like maybe the Klem-n thing wasn't quite a flowerpot after all... like maybe it was used to--

Ewww... The mental image was so disturbing he froze almost letting Spock be on top again. But only almost. Impulsively, he grabbed a pillow and tossed it.

The distinct sound of breaking pottery caught the Vulcan's attention. "Jim, that was your C'lemnin!" he said, aghast;

"You got it," Kirk said meaningfully without knowing the meaning--but hoping like hell it was the right idea.

Resignedly, Spock rolled off him. "Can I assume that you are demanding an equal opportunity bonding rather than the ancient, noble, honored, socially correct bonding?"

Kirk beamed happily that his aim had been so perfect on all counts. "You got it," he repeated, and began initiating a few traditions of his own.

Much later, after all traditions--Vulcan and Human--had been observed to the immense satisfaction of the parties involved, Kirk lay sleepily with Spock. He considered the events of the past few hours and decided that he really didn't want to know everything after all. It had worked out for the best. The old saw about ignorance being bliss had been proven true--and it was also a hell of a lot of fun.

Still, next year--just to be on the safe side--he'd better stuff money in an envelope.


End file.
